Part 51 (2/2)
At a little distance was the gate of the low wire fence, but he stepped across the wire, and pa.s.sed through the open door of the dairy to a tall tulip tree, around the body of which coiled the brown serpent of the muscadine. Very near this tree, now all aglow with its orange-spotted cups, stood--on the edge of a verbena bed--an ancient mimosa in full bloom. Years before, an August gale had pollarded it, and lateral branches drooped almost to the ground, except on one side, where they were cut away to frame an arch, and this entrance showed a wooden bench set against the trunk of the tree. To-day it resembled a huge j.a.panese umbrella of olive-green lace thickly studded with pink silk aigrettes that shook out waves of sweetness, mellow, fruity, languorous. Looking around for the best coign of vantage, Mr. Herriott noticed the narrow arbor covered by a thick growth of b.u.t.ter-bean vines, where he stood secure from observation. On the ground, only five yards distant, lay a woman's broad black straw hat tied basket-fas.h.i.+on with its ribbon strings, and filled with spikes of tuberoses. By cautious pressure of the bean vines he could see very distinctly the front of the house and the mimosa seat.
With his head on his hand and a throbbing of his heart that defied control, he waited, his eyes on the hat, he never knew how long, until a sudden thrill shook him.
From an invisible corner of the garden, Eglah came slowly toward the arbor. Her mourning gown of l.u.s.treless, thin black silk fitted perfectly the curves of her finely moulded figure, and at her throat she had fastened a spray of white star jasmine. High on her head the glossy, gold-flecked chestnut hair was piled in soft loose coils and puffs that caught the suns.h.i.+ne as she walked, holding in the clasp of one arm a sheaf of long-stemmed lilies. Advancing until she reached the hat, she leaned down, swung the knotted ribbons over her right wrist, and stood a moment listening to the peaceful woodland message of the lark. Three years had wrought a marvellous change. The rich promise of her youth had expanded into an almost flawless loveliness. A certain girlish slimness had given place to the fuller, rounded lines of graceful, perfect womanhood, and over the pathetic, pale face had settled a pa.s.sionless repose that comes only when hope is dead, and silent pride sits on its tombstone. As she held the lilies with her left arm, the hand gleamed white against the folds of her black dress, and the wedding ring flashed. Her cold, exquisite purity matched that of a Roman vestal on her way to shrines, but her large brown eyes, looking far away, were so darkened by shadows of mournful memory, of helpless yet uncomplaining renunciation, that Mr. Herriott could not endure the sight. He threw his hand across his face, and strangled the impulse to spring to her side, to catch her in his arms. When he looked again, she had walked away toward the house.
With a book in her hand, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l ran down the steps.
”I am waiting for the flowers, before I close the box for the little bride. These lilies are just what she needs for the altar. Give them to me.”
Then a low, sweet, sad voice swept the heartstrings of the man who watched and listened.
”Do not forget to send my present. I put my card inside the case. Dear little Minna, I hope she may be happy. If her husband really loves her, she enters her heaven; but if not, the poor little thing will soon wish the burial instead of marriage service had been read over her to-night.
I trust the child may never find out that a tolling bell is sweeter than a wedding peal. You found my Baedeker?”
”Yes, in the mill where you left it a week ago.”
”I must look out one or two points in it, and the air is so deliciously sweet I think I shall stay a while in the garden on this last Dingle day, unless you need me to help you.”
”There is nothing for you to do inside; everything is ready.”
”Ma-Lila, you have been crying! What makes you so nervous? You are trembling.”
”Oh, I feel upset! Leaving Robert's lonely grave, and all.”
The girl stooped, and kissed her cheek.
”It seems very selfish to ask you to leave a place so dear to you; but I hope G.o.d will begin to pity me at last, and call me soon where I shall trouble no one any more. Then----”
Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l laid the lilies on her lips to close them.
”Hush, my baby--hus.h.!.+ I am screwed up now like a frazzled fiddle-string, and if you give another twist I shall just go to pieces.”
Taking the flower-laden hat, she placed it with the lilies on the step, and turned toward the dairy.
Baedeker in hand, Eglah moved away, but as she neared the arbor she looked back over her shoulder and called:
”Little mother, when Dorcas brings the clothes she kept to flute, please call me. I ought to finish packing my trunk by one o'clock. Mr. Boynton says the baggage should be at the station not later than five o'clock, and you know we have to shake hands with all the plantation folks at four. Where are you going?”
”Only to the spring house for the cream I promised Minna for charlotte-russe. I set the jug there to cool.”
”Let me bring it. You will wear yourself out.”
”As if you knew morning's cream from that two days old! Go read your book.”
She sped toward the dairy like a running bird and though she did not turn her head, the black eyes were busy. In the shelter of the spring house she fell on her knees beside pans and bowls and with streaming eyes prayed that after the battle perpetual peace might come.
<script>